


That Knew'st the Very Bottom of My Soul

by planet_plantagenet



Category: Henry IV Part 1 - Shakespeare, Henry V - Shakespeare
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Conversations, Gen, Prison, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Treason, What-If, i'm sorry for writing so much sad fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 07:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12207060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planet_plantagenet/pseuds/planet_plantagenet
Summary: AU in which Lord Scroop and Ned Poins are the same person.(I was rereading Henry V, and thinking about Lord Scroop. If he and Henry were so close, then maybe shouldn’t we have met him in Henry IV?)





	That Knew'st the Very Bottom of My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> But, O,  
> What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop? thou cruel,  
> Ingrateful, savage and inhuman creature!  
> Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels,  
> That knew'st the very bottom of my soul,  
> That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold,  
> Wouldst thou have practised on me for thy use,  
> May it be possible, that foreign hire  
> Could out of thee extract one spark of evil  
> That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange,  
> That, though the truth of it stands off as gross  
> As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it.

I remember the grave look on Edmund Mortimer’s face as he’d hustled me into a room, closing the door behind him—and the sinking in my stomach as I knew he was about to tell me something I wouldn’t like at all. Traitors, he’d whispered, and my heart stopped. Three of them. Cambridge, Grey, and Scroop. They wanted money from France, and wanted to kill me and place Mortimer on the throne. _Kill me._ I remember recognizing the name Scroop somewhere, and wracking my brains for days. Where had I heard it before?

I remember planning my moves with my uncle Exeter. Execute them all, he suggested. Make them an example. It was so easy to prescribe death sentences to people I didn’t even know.

And then I remember when the traitors had first stepped into the room, and I locked eyes with Lord Scroop. How I froze for a split second. Conflicting emotions surged through me, and I had to fight to keep my fake-cheerful face and breezy voice. I knew where I’d recognized the name Scroop. It was the name of Ned Poins’ father. But the man standing before me wasn’t his father—it was Ned himself. A friend-turned-traitor.

And how it was so easy to crack when I needed to, letting out all my bewilderment and wrath in an incessant rant. How Ned averted his eyes, not letting me see that they were full of tears. How my anger had carried me farther than I thought was possible.

And now I was standing outside of a prison cell, holding the key in my trembling hand, debating whether or not to enter.

“Hello?” I said quietly.

There was no answer for a second. Then: “Who’s there?”

I almost replied, _The king._ But the word that came out of my mouth was, “Hal.”

No response. I considered locking the door and forgetting any of this ever happened. But I wasn’t about to leave without closure. So I pushed it open, and stepped into the room. The bang of the shutting door behind me held a kind of finality.

Ned was sitting on a stool in the middle of the cell, next to the bed, eyes purposefully trained on the tiny window. His black hair was longer than I remembered, and his clothes were dirty and somewhat ragged.

What could I say? _How are you?_ or _What’s up?_ wasn’t right. Neither was _I’m sorry_.

“Do you want to talk?” I finally asked.

“No.”

“I’m not gonna leave.”

“You’re gonna be here a long time, then.”

I wanted to apologize. Hell, I wanted _him_ to apologize. But I didn’t think that would even come close to solving any kind of problem.

“Just tell me why you did it. Then I’ll go.”

Pause. “Cambridge and Grey did it for the money.”

“Was that a motive for you?”

“Kind of. Not as much.”

I sat down on the floor of the cell. “What were your other motives, then?”

“Go away,” Ned muttered.

“I just want to know. I’m not going to judge you. Please.”

A hollow laugh. “Why the fuck would I care if you were judging me? You’re already planning on executing me.”

Shit. I’d been trying not to think about that. I skirted away from the topic. “Ned… look at me.”

“Oh? Ned, am I?”

“Please.”

Maybe it was the sincere pleading in my voice, or the exhaustion of avoiding me, but Ned finally turned around and fixed his eyes upon me. He looked almost exactly the same as he had years ago—except a little bit older, and a lot more out of love with life.

“Happy now?” he murmured.

“Was it because you thought Mortimer would be a better king than me?” I pressed.

Ned averted his eyes again, refusing to speak a word.

“Please tell me. The sooner you do, the sooner I’ll leave you alone.”

“I….” He paused, flicking his gaze up to my face for a brief second before letting it rest on his bare feet. “I knew you, right? Er. Know you. I had my doubts about how…  honest of a king you’d be. Helped that Mortimer had a pretty legitimate claim to the throne.”

I let out a breath. That was the longest response I’d gotten out of Ned yet. “So… you don’t think I should be king.”

“I don’t even know what I think anymore,” he replied quietly.

“Because of how… wild I was? Debauched?”

“Something like that.”

“You were like that too.”

He bit his lip. “I grew up.”

“So did I.”

Silence. Ned stood, not looking at me, and crossed to the bed, where he sat again.

“I wouldn’t have killed you,” he said after maybe thirty seconds.

My heartbeat quickened. “How do I know that?”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I was angry—”

“Angry at me?”

“You got your answer!” Ned yelled. “Now just… leave me alone!” His voice cracked.

I stayed put. “You haven’t told me everything. Why were you angry?”

Ned drew his knees up to his chest, shaking his head fervently. “Stop it. Stop asking questions. I don’t owe you anything.”

He had a point. This was stressful for both of us. And maybe it was best to leave him be for the moment. So I got up, beginning to unlock the door.

“Wait,” came Ned’s strangled voice from behind me. “Don’t go.”

So now he wanted to talk. I sat once more, keenly listening.

“I betrayed you because you betrayed me,” he said in a small voice.

A chill passed through me. “What? How did I—?”

“You abandoned me. You cut all contact with me and never talked to me again. Even before your father died, you were becoming a stranger.”

_Oh. Right._

“I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t have any excuses. Or anything else to say.

“I loved you,” he breathed. “So much.”

And there it was. That was the truth.

I stood, walked over to the bed, and sat next to Ned, putting an arm over his shoulder. He flinched, then slowly relaxed, leaning into me. I put my other arm around him, and held him like that, feeling his body trembling in my embrace.

And for a moment I wasn’t the king, and he wasn’t a traitor—we were just two former friends who had wronged each other and needed to make up.

“I don’t want to kill you,” I whispered. It was entirely the wrong thing to say, but I couldn’t leave it unsaid.

Ned stiffened. “Then don’t. You’ll be doing me a favor.”

“The court will never allow me to spare you. You know. Discipline. All that.”

“You’re the king. You can do whatever you want, can’t you?”

“You’re a traitor.”

I regretted the words the instant they came out of my mouth. Ned straightened up, pulling himself away from me. “Alright then. Execute me. It’s what I deserve, don’t I?”

“Ned—”

“Don’t call me that. It reminds me of—”

He trailed off before he could finish, but I knew exactly what he was about to say.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” I said slowly, “but that doesn’t mean you deserve to die. The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance, right?”

“You could banish me,” Ned offered. “Like Falstaff.”

“I could.” I didn’t mention that that would mean I’d never get to see him again.

He stood suddenly. “I’ve answered all your questions. You can go now.”

I crossed to the door, then looked back at him. “I’ll talk to my uncle. Let’s… let’s see if I can get your life spared, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks for talking to me.”

For the first time in the entire conversation, Ned’s lips twitched into the suggestion of a smile. “Thanks for stopping by, Hal.”


End file.
